The Diaries of the Riddle Master
by RememberDeathAndAllHisFriends
Summary: Voldemort has a longtime forgotten twin sister. As twin to the Dark Lord, Ivy Rose must face going back to Hogwarts for the second time. (This story includes both pre and post Hogwarts.) I've tried to make the timeline as close to accurate as I could. Some of the dates may be off by just a bit. Please ignore that. Thanks.
1. Prologue: December 31, 1998

**Prologue**

It seemed like over half a century ago since I was born. It had been. It had been seventy-two years. In those seventy-two years, I had seen the death of my only aunt. I had heard of the countless murders my brother committed. Why he kept me alive, I didn't know. As I grow older, I forget more and more of my past, but then again, I remember it too. I will remember something important one day. The next, I will have forgotten something with less value towards my life. Sometimes, I forget who I am. _I am Ivy Rose Riddle,_ I remind myself constantly.

Although it was so long ago since the day I was introduced to this world, I haven't figured out one key event in my life. Where did everything go wrong? Evil wasn't always inside of Tom. Somewhere down the line, he changed. The only problem I had was figuring out exactly where things went wrong.

My memories are not only unreliable there. Even the more recent memories are fuzzy. One in particular. The rest of the night I can see clearly, but when it came to my aunt saying the most important spell of my existence, its muddled. I have had countless dreams of the night, but they all end the same way. She never gets to say the spell. I've wracked my brain thousands of times over. I've had people look into my memories. Nothing shows any progress in figuring out the spell.

I am a riddle. The spell is my answer.


	2. Year One: 1938-1939

**Year One: 1938-1939**

I remember little from my first year at Hogwarts, but the few things I do go as follows:

I was already older than a lot of them. I had a late start in school. But I wasn't alone. I had a brother. He was slightly older than me. Only by a little though. The ladies at Wool's orphanage told me that it was only a two minute difference. That's why Tom always got to tell me what to do. He was "older". But that didn't matter much. It just meant he got to choose what car we sat in on the train.

The train.

With its gleaming paint and its fresh look, I felt as if I were a princess. It was beautiful, that piece of machinery. It was one of the most fond memories I had that year. But the train was just the start of the day.

Tom had hold of my wrist as he led me through the crowded platform of 9 ¾. He didn't want me falling behind and slowing him down, I guessed. As we neared the train, he stopped and looked at me with emotionless eyes.

"This is our first year here, Ivy Rose. Don't do anything you'll regret," he said to me.

I nodded, muttering, "I'm not that little anymore Tom."

I wasn't. I had matured much since we in Wools Orphanage. I wasn't the crying baby I was when I was little. I learned that crying didn't get me anywhere. My adoptive father, Peter Kirkland, had proved that to me within a few weeks of living together. Tom was just looking out for me, though. That's what good brother do, right?

Tom and I entered the train and sat together, side by side. If someone were to look at us, they would never have guess we were twins or even that we were related. We both had the same pale skin and height, but everything else about us was different. Tom had dark, nearly black hair, while mine was an unnatural shade of bright, fire truck red. My eyes were an emerald green and Tom's, a dark brown. I lacked the genes of my parents. I considered myself the "mailman" child of our family; the one that didn't seem to belong.

As the train gathered speed, I told myself, "I won't let this year overwhelm me . . . I will make it through."

"Shut up, Ivy," Tom snapped, his eyes closed.

"But Tom-"

"Do as I tell you."

I looked at the ground in defeat. That's what comes with being the younger one. I watched the train speed past mountains and hills and trees. After hours of traveling, the train stopped outside of a large, magnificent castle. The lights in the windows glowed brightly. I smiled at the sight. Hogwarts, I thought. My new home. We were let off of the train and Tom led me through the crowds of children, grabbing my wrist tightly. The first years, like us, were ushered towards a big lake. At the water's edge were boats. Tom climbed in first and helped me so I didn't fall.

Eventually, after travelling across the lake by boat, we were brought into the great hall. Older students sat at the tables, while we were led through the center so we could be sorted. Tom and I waited next to each other. Tom had told me about the houses. Gryffindor was the house of the brave. It was founded by Godric Gryffindor. Ravenclaw was the house of the brains and was founded by Rowena Ravenclaw. There was Hufflepuff as well. Tom didn't know anything about it other than the fact that it was created by Helga Hufflepuff. Finally, there was Slytherin for the cunning and mischievous. Tom liked this house best, seeing how he said we were somehow related to its founder, Salazar Slytherin. He said we were most likely to land ourselves in Slytherin.

I was called before Tom. I could feel his eyes staring at me as I approached the Sorting Hat. The headmaster beckoned for me to sit down on a small stool. I did so and felt the large hat being place over its name. It thought for only a moment before declaring, "Slytherin!"

By the end of the night, I could tell Tom was right. We were both in Slytherin.

After the night of sorting, I could remember nothing of my very first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	3. Year Five: 1942-1943

**Year Five: 1942-1943**

My second, third, fourth, sixth, and seventh years held absolutely no importance in my life. What changed my life happened to be my fifth year, the year the chamber of secrets was opened for the first time. There are many speculations to who opened it, but I know exactly who did. Leave it to Tom to try purposefully kill people.

The train ride was eventless as it had been my first year, so there wasn't any need to have to describe what happened. Actually, things didn't start going awry until near the end of the year, in June.

I wandered the halls with my best friend and cousin Cherish. It was late at night, but we were too wound up to go to bed. I had been hearing voices and they sounded . . . Dangerous. When I tried to talk to Tom about it, he wouldn't listen. He seemed lost in his thoughts again. He had been as of late, but he wouldn't tell what was going on or what was wrong. Bryanne was the only person who I could tell about these voices.

"What does it sound like, the voice?" she asked, looking around for any teachers who may be on the prowl.

"It's kind of like a hissing. It's a man's voice, though. That's for sure," I responded, balling my hands into fists.

"Hissing and a man . . . ?" she asked. "Have you heard something like this before?"

I nodded. I had heard this when I was walking outside of the orphanage. I had passed a small garden snake. It hissed at me and said something I couldn't quite remember now. The voices were still the similar. "It sounds l-like a snake."

"You're hearing snakes. That's weird, Ivy. But it's kind of explainable."

Cherish knew everything there was to know about the Hogwarts founders. It was common for her. Her mother, Ella, had taught her everything when she was growing up. She started, "Salazar Slytherin was a parseltongue. He could could talk to snakes. You could be hearing a snake, but that's absolutely absurd." She paused in thought. "Who knows. There aren't many possibilities . . . Let me do some research."

I laughed. "You? Do research?"

"I don't know everything, you know. Let me find some things out and then we'll talk."

"Find out what," asked an ancient sounding voice from behind us, belonging to none other than Professor Dumbledore. "Now what are two young ladies such as yourself doing out of bed this late?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but thought better than to argue. Instead, Cherish came up with our excuse. "Sir, please. We didn't mean any harm. She's just been hearing things. Voices. We wanted to try and figure it out before we came to Headmaster Dippet or yourself for help."

I shot Cherish a betrayed look and gripped her fingers tightly.

"Is this true, Miss Riddle?" the professor asked, clasping his hands behind him. I nodded briefly in concurrence. "Very well then. Miss Gallot, find your way back to bed. Miss Riddle, follow me."

Professor Dumbledore waved Cherish off and motion for me to follow him. I waved goodbye to my cousin and followed the already leaving professor. He led me through the corridors until we reached the staircase to Headmaster Dippet's office. The entrance was marked by a gargoyle. Professor Dumbledore muttered something under his breath, not allowing me to hear. The gargoyle slid aside and let us pass onto moving staircase. Headmaster Dippet was waiting at the top of the stairs when we arrived.

"Professor Dumbledore? What might be the problem so late at night?" asked the headmaster, motioning for us to come further into the room.

"I didn't mean to disturb you so late, Headmaster, but there seems to be a problem with Miss Riddle's head. She's hearing . . . _Voices,_" Professor Dumbledore explained. By the sound of his voice, he didn't seem to believe me.

"Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster Dippet," I pleaded. "I'm telling the truth! I'm hearing voices. It sounds like a man! He's hissing. I think it might be . . ."

"Might be what, Miss Riddle?" asked Headmaster Dippet.

I mustered up any thoughts I had on the subject and sighed heavily. "A snake . . ."

Headmaster Dippet raised a brow then shook his head. "You can't possibly be hearing a snake, child. You can't possibly be a parseltongue."

I had the urge to scream out that I wasn't a child anymore, but I thought better. I gave the headmaster a pleading look. "Sir, please! I don't know any other way to explain it! I've talked to snakes before. It's in my blood."

Dippet's expression was quizzical. "Your blood?"

I groaned in frustration. "My brother claims we're the heirs of Slytherin, but I don't know if I should believe him. All I know is that I can talk to snakes, sir. I don't know what I'm going to do about it though. Cherish was trying to help me, but Professor Dumbledore stopped us and brought me here to ask you about it. Now you don't believe me. This all is just a huge waste of my time and your own." I continued to ramble, muttering under my breath. "If the Headmaster doesn't believe me, then who will? Tom? He hasn't listened to a word I've said in months!"

As I started to pace around the room, Dumbledore set a hand on my shoulder. "Miss Riddle, please be assured that I believe you. Now head back to your common room. We can discuss this further when we've all had sleep."

Professor Dumbledore ushered me out of the room and down the stairs. From there, I made my way towards the common rooms. Before I was even a few feet from the gargoyle statue, I heard the snake's voice. I looked around for a source to no avail. _Where is this coming from?_

I made haste to following the sound of the snake's voice as it travelled down the halls. It kept repeating,_ kill, kill, kill._ Soon the sound had me running after it. Then all of a sudden, it stopped just outside of the girl's lavatory. I walked into the large room, hoping that I would be alone, but my hopes were crushed as quickly as they had arisen. Near one of the stalls, a girl lay still. I knew her. She was a Ravenclaw girl by the name of Myrtle. I called out to her, but received no response. I slowly made my way towards her. I bent down and touched my fingers to her throat, looking for a pulse. Her eyes were wide open and her skin was cold as ice. There was no pulse. She was . . . dead.

I sprinted from the bathroom, directed towards the Headmaster's office. The gargoyle was out of place and the stairs were moving. Someone was coming down. Before anyone got in my way, I ran up the stairs and rushed past Professor Dumbledore. Headmaster Dippet was sitting at his desk, writing.

"Headmaster!" I screamed. "She's . . . dead! Myrtle is dead! Come quick!"

The headmaster rose to his feet quickly and walked with me down the halls to the girl's lavatory, Dumbledore following close at his heels. I showed them Myrtle's body and then retreated to a corner of the room. The two teachers called in other teachers. Somewhere in the mess, Tom came in and knelt down next to me.

"I'm sorry this had to happen, Ivy. I wished you weren't the one to find her," he muttered in my ear, his voice emotionless.

"T-Tom?" I asked, my voice soft and filled with confusion and fear.

"Yes?"

"Who is to blame for this?"

"Hagrid," came his simple response.


	4. December 31, 1979

**December 31, 1979**

Fifty-two is a large number in age, but according to anything else I cared about, it's just a blip on the radar. Nothing. Tom and I were 52, but he hadn't spoken to me since the day we left Hogwarts. I only knew that he had become someone else. A monster. As of eight years ago, my brother became Lord Voldemort.

The date of my birth was never something I was exactly _fond_ of. Tom and I shared it only a few times, but otherwise, I spent it alone. I lived with my elderly aunt and cousin Cherish. She and I took care of her mother, Ella. My adoptive father, Ella's brother, died twenty-two years earlier. From that point forward, I took care of Ella, accompanying her every need. That one New Years Ever, however, Ella took me by surprise.

"Girls," she called in her aged voice.

"Mother, we're not girls anymore," Cherish corrected, a smile playing on her lips.

Ella gave a short, hearty laugh and then continued. "Do you remember when you used to sit on the floor beside me, listening to my stories. Oh, I wish you were girls again. You were so young, so beautiful."

I put a hand on her shoulder. "I wish I could do my life all over again, but within the limits of today's modern times."

"That's it, Ivy Rose, dear, you're on the right track," said Ella with a gleeful smile.

"What are you talking about Mother? How could she be on the right track? Doing her life all over again? Why, that's absurd!" Cherish proclaimed.

"You're so closed-minded, Cherry," my aunt said glumly. "Why of course she could."

"Ella," I started. "I'm almost positive that's not possible."

"Of course it is. If you know the correct spell that is." Ella stood and raised her wand. "If you girls choose to return change your age back to the day you were born, you must understand three things. One, you will not be able to make yourself older again; this spell doesn't work that way. Two, you will have your memories from your past lives, but some things might be a bit fuzzy. Three, you will not remember this spell unless you are in dire need of it. I will make sure of that."

"Mother, you're nuts!" howled Cherish.

"Of course I am, but I know what I'm doing. Trust me," Ella said with a shrug. "Now do you want me to perform the spell or not? If I do, you two may have a role to play in the future."

Cherish and I nodded simultaneously.

From that point on, my memory is a void of nothingness.


	5. July 16, 1981

**July 16, 1981**

"Girls!" Ella called from the kitchen. "Dinner!"

Cherish and I ran from the small playroom in the backroom of the house, towards the kitchen where my Aunt Ella was serving up dinner. It smelled like chicken. Chicken was my favorite. I sauntered over to the edge of the stove. Standing on my tippy toes, I caught a glimpse of what she was cooking. "Is it chicken, Auntie? Is it chicken?" I asked gleefully.

"You always think it's chicken, Ivy Rose," Cherish said with a scowl. "Mommy, is it hamburgers?"

"Neither," Ella corrected with a secretive smile. Cherish and I gave a dissatisfied moan. "Then you two don't want to eat?"

Seconds later, Cherish and I were all smiles. "We do!" we chimed in unison.

Ella set down three plates on the table and we sat on either side of her. What was on the plates didn't seem all that recognizable. It looked more like red sauce and while lumps. "What is it?" I questioned.

"Cheese tortellini. Eat up," Ella responded, popping one of the white blobs into her mouth. By using the spell, Ella had made herself young again. She looked about twenty-seven now. He long black hair was restored to its former glory, and her skin was smooth and wrinkle-free. She looked absolutely beautiful. Cherish, was a younger version of Ella, with the same black hair and glittering dark green.

Cherish and I quickly finished up our dinner and rushed back to the playroom. There, I sat with her and we tried to remember things from our pasts. So far, all I could remember was that I had a brother named Tom and that I went to Hogwarts. I also remembered talking to some big snake thing when I walked through the halls and finding a dead girl in a bathroom. They weren't very nice memories, but they were the ones that stuck to me most. They were some of the things I remembered.

Cherish, however, remembered a lot. She and I both knew how to talk at an early age, seeing as how we learned so long ago. She remembered her much of what we had learned while we were at Hogwarts. She also remembered what her mother had taught her when she was growing up. Ella said that she might have had things around her that unlocked her old memories. Seeing as how I had spent most of my life with an adoptive father and in an orphanage, I didn't really have any of my old surroundings around me. I was hoping that was the case and that my memories wouldn't be hidden from me forever.

There was a knock on the door. Cherish and I ran towards the front door, readying to open it. Ella quickly shouted for us not to and ushered us into our bedroom. "Stay here . . . Don't come out!"

"But Mommy! Please! I don't like being in my room! I was to see who's here," Cherish pleaded.

Ella shook her head and went to open the door. Cherish and I quickly ran from the room, hiding in the closet nearest the door. We left the door open a crack so we could look to see who was there. Ella opened the door and in stepped a tall, hooded figure. Ella looked shaky, but she held her ground. "What do you want, T-" she stopped then asked, "What do you want, Dark Lord?"

"I have need of two things," he said, his voice like ice.

"What are those two things?"

"The spell you used for your youth and my sister and cousin."

Ella took a step forward and stood on her tippy toes. "Over my dead body."

"Now, now, Ella. We wouldn't want that, would we?" he asked sarcastically, taking a few steps into the room. "I could get that spell from one of the girls when their older, or did you cast a memory charm on them, hmm?"

Ella scowled. "Of course I did. What do you take me for? A fool?" she retorted.

I leaned forward, curious to whom the man was. By doing this, I managed to knock Cherish over, sending us both toppling to the ground. We fell through the closet door, to the surprise of both Ella and the visitor. Ella was the first to comment. "I told you to stay in your room! You couldn't do that until he left?"

"You always try to do what's best for me, Mommy! I know what I'm doing. I'm smart. I know spells. I know who _he_ is!"

"No you do not, Cherish. You're only two years old. Go to your room, now," Ella commanded, her voice dark and full of warning.

"No! I hate how you treat us. We're not children in our minds, Mommy! I hate how you treat us and . . . and . . . and I hate you, too!" Cherish ran from the room, tears streaking her small face. She didn't mean it. She couldn't have. I stared at Ella and the visitor, my eyes wide in terror. Without a second thought, because of all the yelling and screaming, I broke out wailing and crying. The visitor started to chuckle and Ella tried to lead me from the room.

"Leave the girl, Ella. The spell, now," the visitor demanded.

I heard the bedroom door creak open, and Cherish poked her head out, watching the scene unfold. "Tell me now," the visitor demanded once more, raising a bone-like wand.

Ella shook her head and responded, "Over my dead body."

"So be it," said the visitor. "Avada kedavra!"

I screamed as a green light shot out and Ella fell. Cherish ran out, eyes wide with fear and tears. "The third unforgivable curse," she muttered. "You killed my mother."

"Such a tragic loss," came the visitors sarcastic reply. "Come. Now."

At that moment, I knew who the visitor was. The memory struck me hard and I gasped. The visitor was Lord Voldemort. Lord Voldemort was no one other than my brother, Tom Riddle. I mustered up any courage that I had and asked, "What has become of you, Tom?"

He didn't answer me. Instead, he grabbed our wrists and apparated from the house. We landed in a large graveyard. I recognized it instantly. I was where our father, Tom Riddle Sr. was buried. Why did he bring us here? I swallowed and stated, "You always pick somewhere familiar for your hideouts, Tom . . ."

He shot me an annoyed glance. "For a two-year old, you have in infinitesimally big mouth, Ivy Rose. You shouldn't ever know how to talk."

"You can blame Ella's spell. I know a lot," I retorted.

"Well, that just means you will know exactly what I mean when I say you and your cousin are to become my Death Eaters."

"I know what you mean, Tommy, but that won't happen."

"It will."

"It won't."

"It will."

"It won't."

"I'm not arguing with a two-year old," he roared in frustration.

"You're forgetting something," I said with a cute, innocent voice.

"And that is?"

I stood on my tippy toes and beckoned for him to come closer. He bent down so my lips were next to his ear. "We're the same age. I'm not two anymore," I whispered. "I'm fifty-five!" I screamed the last part as loud as I could and stepped back, crossing my arms in a defiant rage.

"You insolent child!" he yelled. "You're lucky I need you."

"I guess I am, but I won't be one of your Death Eaters."

"Not now you won't, but you will."

He was right. A few days later, he branded us with his mark. He called it an honor to serve him, and his Death Eaters agreed. I, however, felt that the dark mark held no value. I agreed to let him mark me though, valuing only my life. Even as a girl, I knew becoming a Death Eater was better than death. I could always cover it up and run away. I could always change my name and put makeup over the mark. I wish I had chosen death, because now that I have decided my fate, I can never take it back. I will always be shunned for being one of his followers. I will never truly be happy because in the end, I would be hated by everyone in the wizarding world. Ella would have hated me, and so would my father. Every friend that I would gain in the future would find out. They'd hate me. Everyone would.

Sometimes that thought comes back to me, and sometimes I'd wish his empire would end. That same year Tom attacked Potter's family. Although everyone thought he was gone for good, I knew better; I knew that he was going to come back. He had seven pieces of his soul to protect and those seven missing pieces kept him alive.


End file.
